I wanna go to South Carolina, redefining bravery
by RankstrailOfDagliar
Summary: When Hamilton is sick with staying in Valley Forge as a secretary, and when his coworkers slowly have enough of his explosive behavior, he decides to put his talents to better use further south. But will the General agree to this plan? And how will Laurens react to Hamilton's intention of abandoning him at the camp? Historical/Non-Canon. Rated T for swearing/a bit of violence.
1. Chapter 1

Hello Guys!

Second fic, here we go! Like the first fic, it is not canon, and some things, especially about the course of the war, will change, especially in later chapters, for plot reasons. It was originally planned as a One-Shot, but as usually, I went far over the top... So this is kind of a multi-chapter One-Shot (if you guys are interested).

With that being said, have fun reading it!

Contains: Swearing, mild violence, a very pissed Hamilton

* * *

Alex really had enough.

Right now, he was again summarizing yet another letter from one of the colonels, someone who obviously had never even held a pen before, given the uncountable grammar mistakes and the plain mess of thoughts and complete lack of structure. The General had to waste minds like his and the other aides on dealing with this incoming correspondence, written by colonels who were just so damned incapable! If they wouldn't have servants, they probably wouldn't be able to pee by themselves!

Those thoughts caused the young aide to aggressively shove his quill into the ink bottle, frustrated by the lack of ink durability of those damn quills. In his anger, he almost missed the pot, and in an attempt to correct the course of the quill, he tossed the whole pot off his table and the ink spilled all over the wooden floor.

„Shit! I'm so fucking done with those damned-"

Swallowing the rest of his tirade because of the queer looks the other aides shot him, he kicked the desk with his foot.

„Ahh! Fuck this...arrgh!"

Limping, he strode round the desk, picked up the ink pot, and slammed it back onto the desk.

Meade dared to ask: „Is everything al-"

„YES, I'm fine!", Alex cut him off, storming out of the room and slamming the door shut behind him.

The sudden exit of the youngest aide was met with astonished silence.

„What the hell is wrong with that guy today?", Harrison finally asked to no one in particular.

„Today? Nothing new. He's a wandering powder keg all the damn time!", Fitzgerald exclaimed.

„I know, but not even Hamilton explodes like that because of a little incident.", Harrison stated.

„Besides, it wasn't just the spilled ink, he was pissed the last hours already.", Tilghman added.

„You sure? I mean, Hamilton isn't exactly the most relaxed person in general..", Meade muttered.

„Definitely not.", stated Fitzgerald.

„Yeah, you're right, but I know him, he was more tense than usually the last days even."

„Right, I forgot he was your personal special snowflake, Tilghman.", grumbled Fitzgerald, and before anyone else could intervene, he continued: „That boy's temper will cost us greatly, one day, just you wait! No one else can pull off shouting at anyone randomly just because of some minor detail he thinks doesn't fit, and then storm out of the room, slamming the door like a madman and still stay chief-aide! He's meant to wisely lead our department, yet all he does is inhaling coffee, scribbling like possessed and screaming at us all the damn time!"

„HOLD ON!", shouted the usually so collected Tilghman, „before you accuse Hamilton of anything, first, start writing even the half of what he writes each day. He works more and longer than ANY of us, and I trust you are very well aware of the fact that he doesn't just shout at us randomly, only when some mistake or delay happened-"

„But who gets to decide the deadlines for us? It's not my fault that this boy has no life and expects us to work like that as well!", contradicted Fitzgerald.

Meade added: „Fitzgerald does indeed have a point here, Tilghman. You can't expect us to work as long as Hamilton, some of us do need sleep and don't just run on coffee."

Tilghman sighed: „I know, I know... He's .. difficult. But still, I won't accept Fitzgerald talking about him like that, especially not behind his back! You must admit, that even though he has, let's stay, high standards and seems to randomly shout at people, he is the only one to be able to keep an overview about all the correspondence, and that is an almost inhuman task."

„Takes one to know one...inhuman...", Fitzgerald mumbled, but nodded in agreement nonetheless.

They all knew that Hamilton was indeed the human library of all the incoming and outgoing correspondence, if you needed help concerning for example the rough content of the last ten letters sent by the spies in the south, which was still occupied by the enemy, Hamilton was your man.

Tilghman pinched his nose and told Fitzgerald:

„So, now that this is settled, we can go on with our work. If you want to complain about him, tell the General."

„Ehm, Tilghman..", Meade began.

„What?"

„Maybe you can.. talk to him. I mean, he will perhaps listen to you."

„About what?"

„His yelling. Fitzgerald is right concerning this. If there is a mistake or anything, it is of course his right and duty to tell us, but this can be done more.. civilized. He doesn't have to shout at us like we're children."

„Okay, if you want to, I'll see what I can-"

Tilghman was cut off by the door being swung open so forcefully it hit the wall with a loud thump, followed by Hamilton storming in with some towels to clean the ink off the floor. He strode to the ink mess without merely looking at the older aides, kneeling down to let the towels soak in the spilled ink.

The other aides looked at each other with arched eyebrows, but didn't dare to even breath loudly.

When Hamilton started rubbing the floor more and more forcefully, Harrison timidly asked:

„You need some help?"

„No thanks! I'm perfectly fine! I already told the maid and I will tell you again, I am indeed capable of cleaning some fucking spilled ink by myself. At least one benefit of not being born into a privileged family, I don't need a servant to do everything for me, look, I am even capable to dress myself alone! You know, that isn't that difficult once you try, oh sorry, I forgot, some of the inhabitants of that house are probably not even capable of THAT!"

„Hamilton, that's enough.", declared Tilghman.

„What? Am I right or am I right? Obviously we are seen as the secretaries of the general, accounting the amount of eloquently trash we get here each day! And on top of that, I still get to deal with deadline-ignoring, lazy-"

„Hamilton, STOP!", shouted Tilghman, slamming his hand onto his desk. „Quit screaming at your coworkers, for God's sake! We are not your personal enemies!"

„Listen, I-"

„No! YOU listen. If you want to be pissed all day long and dismiss every chance of friendly human contact, go ahead. But if you continue screaming at us for no other reason than us trying to help you, I will personally inform the General of your apparent incapability to lead the staff of the aides."

„You wouldn't-"

„I can and I will.", and with that, Tilghman sat back down and continued working on the report he had started earlier, leaving the other aides in stunned silence.

„You know, for continuously interrupting and contradicting your chief, other departments would use severe punishments. Just because-"

„If you want to complain, go tell the General. Otherwise, leave me alone, I have work to do."

The other aides watched in fear and disbelief as Tilghman continued working on his report with a frown, not even looking up to the for once speechless Hamilton.

Eventually, they also continued their work, given that Hamilton still remained standing, dumbfounded.

He knew Tilghman well enough to take his treat of reporting him to the General serious, and he may be a motormouth, but he was no idiot. He knew he had pushed the other aide to his limit, and he also knew that Tilghman's word weighted a lot to the General, in combination with the rest of the aides probably outweighing Alex's. But still, he wouldn't let this stand, he definitely wouldn't let Tilghman have the last word. Thus, he opened his mouth to start arguing with the older aide once again, but suddenly memories of his time as an aide so far began to overflow him, the joy and burning passion when he had discovered he was allowed to help in the fight for freedom by the General's side, the comradery slowly developing with the other aides, despite their differences, and of course, his friendship with Laurens. If he pushed Tilghman past his breaking point, no one knows what he will do, what if the General finally decides that the angry, short-tempered immigrant is too much of a bother to be kept in the army, throwing him out and separating him from his soulmate? He wouldn't know how to go on without the passionate yet relieving company of his so-much-more-than-best friend. Was he really ready to risk all the hard years of work that went into finally getting his position and risk losing his other half for arguing back once? No, he could remain silent for one single time in his life! Too much was at stake.

So, with nothing left to add, he sat down at his desk, ignoring the still remaining ink stain on the floor, grabbing a new pot of ink and once again diving into his work.

Tilghman was positively surprised by Hamilton's sudden silence, he hadn't expected him to shut his mouth so easily. Loosing his position as chief-aide bothered and feared him more than Tilghman had thought, obviously. He frowned at the remaining ink on the floor, but decided to drop the subject for the sake of the moment's peace. Only the frantic scrapping of quills was to be heard, and for a second, Tilghman just let that moment sink in, enjoying the peace of the office. Why couldn't it be like this all the time?

Of course, the moment had to be interrupted.

Only enjoying two minutes of peace, and someone had to knock on the door.

Sighing, Tilghman said: „Come in!"

A young soldier peeked around the corner of the door and shyly stated:

„Good afternoon, Sirs, I would ..ehm.. like to announce that Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens just arrived at the camp. You told me to inform you, Sir."

He looked at Hamilton, whose head had shot up at the mention of Laurens' name.

„How is he? Is he injured?!", Alex babbled, not waiting for an answer, grabbing his coat and hurrying out of the room while mumbling: „John, for your own sake, I hope you didn't get into trouble again! If I have to fear for your life a second time because some enemy decided to stab a sword right through you, I swear, I'm gonna kill you afterwards by my own...".

After Hamilton left, the soldier remained standing there awkwardly, not exactly knowing what he should do now, the chief aide had told him to, or rather threatened him to inform him as soon as Laurens arrived, but then Hamilton had asked if the other aide was injured and he had not yet given him a response.

„Ehm.. I guess I'll...ah.. tell him he is injured, but only slightly?", he stuttered to the remaining aides and especially to himself.

Harrison chuckled: „Boy, you better get used to Hamilton ignoring you and rushing past you! Don't worry, he'll be fine, he'll find out himself. Go ahead and do whatever you are actually supposed to do, son."

Bowing slightly, the young soldier hurried out of that strange room.

He had in fact heard stories about the strange habits of the aides, their almost non-existent hierarchy and of course the obnoxious chief, but own experience was again another story.

* * *

Thanks for reading!

Should I continue this? The summary already hints where this fic would be going, so what do you think?

I can't promise regular updates, but if you would like to read more, I'll try to get off my lazy ass ;)

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it and as always, PLEASE Review! And, if you liked it, leave a heart.

Thanks Guys!


	2. Chapter 2

Hey guys,

welcome back! I'm so sorry for the long wait and I'm also sorry that this is only a short kinda filler chapter where not much happens.

I promise, the next chapter is gonna deal with the real plot of this fic, as announced in the summary.

Thanks for all the kind reviews so far, they mean soo much to me!

Contains: mentions of violence and some non-graphical violence (flashback)

Enjoy!

* * *

Alexander left the warm comfortableness of the house to be hit by a front of cold air and icy wind. Shivering, he pulled his coat closer around him, hurrying down the hill towards the main camp. The howling wind bit into his skin after mere seconds, causing him to shiver violently as he made his way down the frozen pathway.

Despite the harsh weather, the aide didn't spare a second thought about it, all of his mind was occupied with Laurens, his John, and the shocking possibility of him being injured. His friend had been away for almost a week, a week Alexander had spent thinking about him all the time, longing for his other half, the one who completed him, the only one who was able to calm him down, the only one in whose presence he could be himself, letting down his guard and all his carefully constructed walls of self-defense. He couldn't bear seeing him hurt again, not after he had to fear for his friend's life so many months ago.

Memories began to overwhelm him.

 _The shock, as Alexander rushed to Laurens, knowing he would reach him too late, but nonetheless pushing his body to and over his limits._

 _The surprised look on John's face, as the sword pierced his side and was pulled out again._

 _The dull force, as Alexander's body connected with their enemy's, who had just pulled back his sword in order to push it back in again, this time through Laurens' heart._

 _The surprised face of the other soldier, as Alexander's speed sent them both crashing to the floor._

 _The feeling of blood on his hands, as he shoved his dagger through the motionless body of his enemy again and again._

 _The quiet cry of pain from John, causing him to stop his stabbing and crawl over to his friend._

 _Again, the blood on his hands as he pressed them onto the wound, frantically searching for some kind of bandage while he kept reassuring Laurens that everything was gonna be alright._

 _The weight of his friend on his side, who leaned heavily against him, causing his already sore muscles to scream out in protest._

 _The pure fear for John, fueling his movements, even when his body threatened to just give up._

 _The relief, when they saw friendly faces at last, then again fear, as the doctor admitted he wasn't sure whether Laurens would make it._

 _The painfully long hours until his friend woke up, leaving Alexander with nothing to do than wait, wait and wait._

Shaking his head, Alexander forced his brain to stop those whirling memories, concentrating on the icy path instead. He wouldn't face this again, no, he refused to wait outside a tent and just stand there with absolutely nothing to do, not being able to help at all, condemned to **wait**!

Soon, the aide reached the first tents, some soldiers forced to work outside greeted him, but he merely nodded their way, once again too caught up in his thoughts to really pay attention.

After some minutes of walking, he reached the entrance of the encampment, where the returning soldiers arrived, searching for a familiar aide de camp. Panic began to clench his chest as he couldn't spot his friend, so he turned to some soldier.

„Hey, you, yeah you, quick, you know where Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens is? He must have arrived about 20 minutes ago."

„John Laurens? Ehm.. I dunno, sir.. Was he injured, sir?"

„I do not know! Now, would you kindly ask someone who might know, please?", the aide snapped.

„Yeah yeah, sure, sir.", the soldier murmured with a frown.

And with that, he turned away to ask his superior, if he knows where that John Laurens was. Well, as long as he didn't have to face that for whatever reason pissed dude, he was content.

A minute later, he returned.

„Sir? The captain said that Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens, aide de camp, who was away for five days with-"

„I know how long he was away! And why and with whom goddammit! Just tell me where the fuck he is already!", Alexander shouted at the soldier.

„I was gonna say that! My God... He went to the food tent to eat something,.. sir."

„THANKS!", the aide cried and stormed off towards said tent.

„Asshole.."

Alexander hurried towards that tent, almost running, but slowed his pace as he reassured himself that John obviously wasn't hurt, when he was able to go to get some food.

As he approached the tent, the smell of food reached him even though the wind was still howling, reminding him how hungry he actually was, not having eaten all day. But that could wait.

He entered the warm tent and immediately began looking for his friend. Then, he spotted a messy brown ponytail that could only belong to one person. He couldn't help but run towards Laurens, but holding himself back to not kiss him in the middle of the tent.

„JOHN!"

Laurens turned his head in confusion, and then grinned as he saw the mess of hair, coat and red cheeks running towards him.

„Hey pal!", he laughed as his short friend flew into his open arms, practically suffocating him. He let out a small wince as Alex pressed against the wound at his chest.

Alexander noticed and instantly pulled back, eyes wide open with sorrow.

„What is it? Don't tell me you managed to get yourself injured again! My God, I **told** you to take better care of yourself, I mean you **do** realize we are in the middle of a war where there is a certain danger to get hit by a bullet or a sword or whatever, and that you actually have to pay attention to not get hit! Didn't you learn anything out of last time? Do you even realize how much you cause me to wo-"

„Hey, HEY!", John interrupted, effectively shutting his friend up.

„It's nothing, okay? Really, it's just a small cut at the chest!"

„Small? I do not trust your definition of ‚small'! You would even say ‚I'm fine.' if your head would be ripped off!"

„You wanna see, then?", John offered with a dirty smirk.

„What? Don't you think that it would be a bit strange if i looked at your chest in the middle of.. oh.. you smooth fucker!", Alexander laughed.

„No seriously, get it looked at by a doctor."

„C'mon, it's just a-"

„Even a small cut may get infected. Besides, you want to be ready for my close investigation afterwards, don't you?"

„Hell yeah! I'm just gonna finish my meal, which you were so kind to interrupt, then I'll see that doctor, and then, well.. HEY! What the hell?"

Alexander had realized just how hungry he was himself, and since a meal was in close proximity, he had helped himself to some of John's food. When Laurens noticed, he was already halfway through and smiled at his friend with innocent eyes.

„What? I am hungry, and there is food. I had a lot of work today, and you were chatting, so I might as well help you with your meal.", Alexander declared.

„Only problem. That is MY food!", Laurens exclaimed, reaching over to his plate, trying to snatch it away from his friends hands. Alexander just giggled and held the plate out of reach, mocking Laurens.

„Ts, ts, you're injured! Don't you make swift movements! Besides, I need it more than you! I probably weigh half of your heavy mass!", he laughed, wiggling the plate teasingly.

„Let's see how far your bony body gets you!", Laurens cried, launching himself towards his friend, who only managed to squeak in surprise before both went down in a mess of limbs. Buried under John, Alexander couldn't prevent his friend from wrestling the plate out of the younger aide's hands.

„Ha! Gottcha!", Laurens laughed.

Suddenly, a deep voice sighed from behind: „Why am I not exactly surprised?", caused both of them to stop their fight and look up.

A facepalming Tilghman looked down onto the two aides of the general, members of the greatest army of freedom the world had ever seen, fighting for liberty with fierce determination. And there they were, lying on the floor, coats dirtied and cheeks red, faces shifting between barely contained laughter and guilt.

„I knew that you're still boys, but-"

„We're not boys! In fact, we-"

„BUT, still I expected more adultery.. Well, some may never change.. Whatever, Hamilton, the General wants to see you in his office."

Said aide quickly stumbled to his feet, cheeks now red with shame, and mumbled something along the lines of „Of course, thank you", while hurrying out of the tent.

Tilghman turned back to Laurens, who looked less ashamed and instead tried to keep a neutral face while sitting back at the table.

„Oh boy.. Laurens, I heard you were injured?"

„Yeah, but it's but a scratch, sir."

„Well, I guess I'm gonna let you finish eating now, I'm sure the cook will give you another portion, since your original meal is, you know, a tiny little bit spilled on the floor!", and with that, he turned around and exited the tent, leaving behind a grinning Laurens.

He couldn't wait for Alexander to return from the meeting with the General.

* * *

Like mentioned before, the next chapter will be longer and more important, and I'm not entirely sure yet, but maybe we'll get some action for all the Lams-Shippers out there (the one and only OTP ;)).

Thanks for reading nonetheless, and as always, pleeeaaaase review (or like if you want to).

Have an amazing day!


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